DarKnight Chronicles: The War on Gotham
by Christian Orton
Summary: A tale about Bruce Wayne's early years of training and a retelling of his "Year One" as Batman. Consider this the first volume of my upcoming Batman trilogy.
1. ACT ONE PROLOGUE

October 31, 1980.

It was a dark and stormy night. Even amidst the foul weather, the neon lights of Gotham City still shone brightly in the dark. In the streets there was nothing to suggest that this night would be unlike any other night. Despite the weather directly working against him, the vendor still found the will to drag his hot dog stand around in search of customers. Prostitutes and their pimps were still out on the streets, hoping to make a living from the usual yuppie or the disgruntled family man. The night was just like any other, although it wouldn't be for long.

A few blocks away, a family of three emerged from the local nostalgia theater. The one leading them, the patriarch, was a tall man well into his thirties. He had short brown hair and a medium build, sporting a neat-looking suit fresh from the washer. His wife was a beautiful blonde wearing a string of pearls around her neck. Between them, walking hand in hand was their son, who was a spitting image of his father.

"Isn't Zorro just the best ever?" Bruce said gleefully.

"I told you, you wouldn't regret going to that theater." Martha said with a smile as big as her son's.

"Can we come back next week, dad?"

Thomas Wayne beamed at his son proudly. "We'll see about that son. We'll see."

The three of them crossed the street and took a shortcut into the nearby alley. The rain had finally ceased. Feeling a growing boldness in him, Bruce leaped into the boxes and trash cans, fencing with an unseen opponent. As they left their son to his own imagination, Thomas and Martha Wayne were in deep discussion.

"Thomas, are you sure its good idea to spoil Bruce like this? I mean, it is a school night."

"Now, now, it's all right. Our boy's a natural genius. He could end up a doctor like me--"

"Or a shrewd businessman." Martha interjected.

"Well I have to leave Wayne Industries to somebody when I die…unless you want another child?" Thomas said suggestively.

"Oh stop it already!" Martha blushed as she fingered her pearl necklace nervously.

"By the way, what's with the pearls? I thought you'd only wear them on special occasions."

"Bruce wanted me to wear them. I told him we were only going to the movies, but he said we should make this evening a special occasion too."

Thomas drew in closer and whispered. "I think so too."

She leaned forward to kiss her husband when something caught her attention. Up ahead, Bruce was already frozen with fear. Out of the shadows emerged a shady man in a dark green coat. His face was young but dirty. He eyed the Waynes with both great interest and anxiety. Before any of them could react to the stranger's sudden appearance, he pulled a gun out of his coat and pointed it directly at Bruce's face. Bruce took several steps backwards and retreated into his mother's arms.

"What do you want?" Thomas said firmly.

"C-C-Cash…" The mugger said nervously, "Now! This gun's loaded!"

"Alright son, calm down. Here's your money." Thomas said calmly as he threw his wallet at the mugger's feet.

There was an awkward silence. The mugger himself seemed frightened at the prospect of using the gun. His stance was awkward and his hand holding the gun was shaking. He hurriedly picked up the wallet and took a step back before stopping. His eyes turned towards Martha Wayne and her pearl necklace.

"I want them pearls too! Throw 'em here!" The mugger yelled.

Thomas Wayne jerked forward, ignoring the whispers of his wife and child. He opened his mouth, presumably to coerce the mugger into a compromise, but whatever his intention was will never be known. There was a flash of light and a gunshot. Tears streamed down young Bruce's face; it was the worst thing he had ever heard. For a second, it seemed as though the shot had missed. Thomas Wayne stood in front of them, unmoved and possibly unharmed. When the second passed, he fell into the ground, confirming their worst fears. Martha's scream filled the air. She gripped her son's hand tightly as she dove towards her husband's fallen body. There was another shot, and her grip loosened completely.

"W-What have I done!?" The mugger said to himself.

The gun fell from his hand, his eyes suddenly filled with tears. As she fell, Martha Wayne's pearl necklace broke, its pieces scattered across the alley floor. Mere minutes ago, this young happy couple was alive and well and now they were nothing but lifeless corpses. Only their son remained. The two of them stared at each other. The mugger, now at the point of no return, picked up the gun and pointed it coldly at the boy's face. What was the point of letting him live, he thought. His parents were dead, and he'd be nothing but a witness to a crime. Whatever compelled him to pick up the gun now left him completely. Instead, he turned away from the boy and ran.

"Dad?" Bruce whispered, hoping for a miracle.

"B-Bruce…" Thomas Wayne managed to blurt out.

Bruce smiled. His miracle had come. He held his father's bloody hand tightly and kissed it. They were going to be alright. They were going to be—

Dead.

The reassuring smile on Thomas Wayne's face was the last voluntary movement he'd make. Bruce stared into his father's eyes, hoping that he would move again. Hoping that somehow, things would be alright. But he didn't. What started out as an ordinary night turned into something unexpected and significant. It was that night that changed Bruce's life forever.


	2. Chapter I: Pains of a warrior

April 13, 1990.

It has been raining nonstop for a week. The slopes of the mountain had become muddy and dangerous. As a result, many of the villagers living at the foot of the mountain had been advised against climbing the mountain. An advice that all but one man heeded. Not too long ago, a stranger arrived at the village. A foreigner, from America. No one knew what this young man's business was, but whatever it was, it was definitely secretive for he was rarely seen in broad daylight.

Dressed in an all black ninja garb, he scaled the mountain side. He pulled himself up little by little, as the lightning flashed behind him. He dared not back or down, but he kept his eyes upward towards the top. His hands were sore and red with blood. The rain and his own tears assaulted his eyes. With just one more effort, he pulled himself up the edge and into the Cliffside. At that point, the way was clear. Sprinting quickly, he made a run for it. Nothing was going to slow him down now. At the very top of the slope, there was an old monastery. It looked far older than any edifice he had ever seen. The door was probably old and weak as well, he thought. The large door fell with a loud thud as he kicked it open. As he entered the monastery, he removed his mask. He was just a young man, no older than eighteen. His face was filthy and bloody, no doubt he had been cruelly tested in the past.

"He is here at last." A loud booming voice suddenly said. "Welcome home, Bruce."

At once, the torches hanging from the columns were lit. All of them at once, as if some supernatural force was behind them. Bruce Wayne remained cautious; his mind far from easy. He surveyed his surroundings, but there was nothing. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could hear footsteps. Many of them, all going in different directions as if trying to confuse him, but one of them was unmistakably moving towards him.

He opened his eyes and leaped backwards. A ninja had launched himself from the shadows, intent on Bruce's destruction. The two fought, trading punches and kicks. The ninja was fast and deceptive, but Bruce immediately saw an opening at his sides. Aiming a powerful kick, the ninja grunted, and Bruce was able to take him down with a judo throw.

"Impressive. Now let's see how you fare against three more!" The loud voice echoed throughout the hall.

Three ninjas emerged from the shadows to challenge him. Bruce stood firm and analyzed his opponents. All three of them were staring at him; waiting on him. The slightest movement on his part resulted in movement from their's. They were stalking him. He advanced towards the one in the middle, but the ninjas used their quickness to their advantage and avoided Bruce's attacks. That was the pattern for most of the fight. Bruce was in excellent shape, having spent months learning several fighting styles and meditating, but he was far too slow in comparison to the ninjas. Every time he threw a punch or a kick, they would avoid it, sometimes narrowly. Occasionally, the blow would connect, but it would be blocked, and thus did no damage. As the fight raged on, Bruce grew impatient. It was time to change tactics.

He knelt down and stopped fighting. He began exhaling rapidly; feigning exhaustion. As expected, one of the ninja's leaped into the air and landed nimbly behind him. The moment the ninja's feet touched the ground, Bruce connected with a sweeping kick. The other two leaped forward and unleashed a full barrage of offense. Bruce no longer needed to feign exhaustion, this time it was for real. He traded blows with both ninjas, but their attacks soon took its toll. He had taken several punches to the face and torso, as well as several kicks to the midsection and the neck area. He was bruised all over. He crouched down and let out a loud roar. To his surprise, an unseen number of ninjas watching from the shadows roared back. Bruce got up and threw several punches at his assailants, all of them dodged effortlessly and countered. Bruce felt himself weaken considerably. He was spent.

As he fell backwards, a gong was sounded. The ninjas halted the attack and knelt respectfully towards the old man approaching them. He was dressed in a traditional Japanese kimono. He was small in stature and build but there was an unmistakable aura of power about him. With a small gesture, the ninjas fled back into the shadow. The old man knelt down beside Bruce and cradled his head. And then he spat at his face.

Bruce stirred a bit. "What was that for?!"

"To revive you, young one." The old man replied.

Bruce grunted and tried to get up. He let out an agonized moan. These training sessions were not getting easier.

"You failed again, just like last time." The old man said, "I told you to be patient; you are not ready for the next step."

"Sifu Shiunsai, I am ready. I am just tired from my travels. Please, teach me the next set." Bruce argued.

"No!" Shiunsai bellowed. "Impatient as always and reckless as well! I told you when I took you in that this training will be harsh and unforgiving. If I let you advance way before you're natural time, I have no doubt you'll end up dead within a week."

Bruce said nothing. Instead, he turned his back and limped towards a pillar, where he sat and rested. Sifu Shiunsai shook his head and followed his pupil. He squatted down and placed his hand on Bruce's shoulder.

"Bruce," He said in a softer voice, "You must understand that I mean well. You are indeed a gifted warrior. Your physique is perfect, as well as your mind. Nature has blessed you greatly young one, but you lack the maturity to see the road ahead."

"I know, Sifu. Forgive me."

Sifu Shiunsai laughed heartily. "Besides, why should a rich American such as yourself choose to live such a lifestyle?"

"Well, why does a Chinese businessman such as yourself choose to be a vigilante in Japan?" Bruce countered in good humor.

The two of them laughed at themselves for a while. Two ninjas approached them and respectfully bowed before them. They knelt down and placed a first aid kit and a basket of fruits at their feet before leaving. Shiunsai got up and pushed the items towards Bruce.

"You might not be ready for the next step, but you are ready to put what you've learned into practice. In three days time, we shall go to Tokyo, you and I. I have unfinished business with the Yakuza, and I think I shall need your assistance."

"Really? Well I look forward to it," Bruce said as he took a big bite out of an apple, "Oh and by the way, can you give me a hint as to what's next in my training?"

Shiunsai laughed. "Our next lesson would be on how to disappear out of sight when in the middle of a conversation."

It was now Bruce's turn to laugh. "Yeah, that'll come in handy. Especially if you're in some boring business meeting and --"

Shiunsai was gone. Everyone, as it seems, had left the building without warning. Feeling a bit foolish, he finished his food and dragged himself outside. The rain had stopped. Looking down, he saw that Shiunsai had left him plane tickets by the door. So that was his next destination, he thought. Within three days time. Tokyo, Japan.


	3. Chapter II: Kindred

Not for the first time since boarding the plane to Tokyo, Bruce wondered what he'd gotten himself into. His mind always came up with one thing: training. But he was sure there more to that. He was eighteen years old; and he had been traveling around the world since he was fourteen. And yet of all the people he could've been learning from right now, he had to choose Sifu Shiunsai. Bruce had often wondered about this small Chinese man he was calling 'Sifu'. Who was he really? They had never spoken about anything other than training, although training was usually more than enough since the old man's methods were quite brutal. He had to know. They were seated across each other right now, sitting in first class.

"Sifu Shiunsai?" Bruce spoke softly.

"Hmm?" Shiunsai barely acknowledged him, preferring instead to keep staring out the window.

Bruce cleared his throat. "Sifu, throughout the months that I have spent training under you, I have kept my promise to never question you, but now I have to know…"

Shiunsai slowly turned to face him, his expression as grim as ever. There was a silence between them, but Bruce was stubborn. He chose to stare a hole into his master, not taking his eyes off him for one second. Shiunsai returned the stare but after a while, brushed it off and continued to stare at the clouds they were now passing by.

"You want to know more about me, yes?" Shiunsai asked.

"Yes, master…If you don't mind. Who are you? Why are you doing what you're doing now?"

"Remarkable, how curious the mind of the young is, especially about the unimportant and the trivial…where do I begin?" Shiunsai said with a sigh.

"I was born in Japan, to a Japanese father and a Chinese mother. My parents were quite wealthy, always deeply involved in the family business."

Bruce leaned forward out of curiosity. "And then what?"

"My family…got involved with the Yakuza…An important deal failed…both parties lost a lot of money."

Shiunsai looked incredibly troubled. This was clearly a touchy subject. But it was too late to stop now.

"We had a lot of unpaid debts. So finally, the Yakuza decided that my family was now a liability. My father died on my ninth birthday. Car accident, they said. But my mother knew better. So she took me to live with our relatives in China. It was no use hiding there, so she returned to Japan. Her body was found in an alley. She had been stabbed by a urine-soaked blade."

Tears slowly streamed down Shiunsai's face. Bruce offered him a tissue and the two of them sat together in silence for a long time. It would be quite a while before Shiunsai asked him a question that he did not expect.

"What about you, Bruce? What's your story?" Shiunsai asked.

Images flashed before Bruce's eyes. The nervous look on the mugger's face. The gun. The horrified look on his parents' face. The gunshot. His father fell first, soon his mother followed. Everything was in slow motion. But there were no tears in Bruce's eyes. Not after ten years. Not anymore. He stared blankly into space, wondering how to put that fateful night into words. He'll have to be frank about it, he presumed.

"When I was eight, my parents took me to a nostalgia theatre. When it was over, we took a shortcut through Crime Alley."

"Crime Alley?" Shiunsai sounded legitimately surprised.

"A nickname. That's what people in Gotham called it after what happened that night."

"What did happen?"

Bruce looked straight into his eyes. The old man already knew what had happened. Taking a deep breath, he continued his tale of how a mugger surprised them with a gun and how he lost control of the firearm. Throughout the story, Shiunsai kept shaking his head and kept his eyes closed. After it was over, there was another silence. This time it was a lot longer.

"Kindred, you and I." Shiunsai then said.

"Sifu?" Bruce said, confused.

"Now I know. Your motivations, your intention…to avenge them, am I right?" Shiunsai said, "I too, was once like you. Throughout my childhood, I trained in the Hung Gar style of Kung Fu, the Northern Shaolin and the Ba Gua style of martial arts among others. I honed my body as well as my mind, to prepare for the day I avenge my parents."

"Sifu, I've heard rumors about your younger years in China, how you dealt this the triads there." Bruce said.

For the first time, Shiunsai smiled. He took off his coat and unbuttoned his shirt. Bruce couldn't believe what he saw. There were small scars all over Shiunsai's body. The old man was indeed experienced, but there was something else to the scars; they were exactly the same in size, all of them. As if each one was carefully cut into his skin.

"Sifu…How did you get those scars?"

Shiunsai leaned forward and whispered. "As a young man, I joined the Chinese triads."

"What?!" Bruce was taken aback.

"I was ambitious, but without direction. I needed to understand the ways of the criminals, and what better way to do that than to infiltrate their ranks."

"But those scars--"

"It was a punishment. Eventually, they found out that I was not what I seemed. So they made me undergo the traditional method of _lingchi_, Death by a Thousand Cuts. I was sentenced to die."

"And yet you didn't."

Shiunsai buttoned his shirt. "I spent years fighting with them and against them, learning from every opportunity. But I have never forgotten the Yakuza…"

"Which is why we're going to Tokyo? To take them out?" Bruce asked cautiously.

Shiunsai motioned for Bruce to keep quiet. They surveyed their surroundings to see if anybody was listening in. Most of the passengers in first class were other men fighting under Shiunsai's tutelage, but there were other people as well. Bruce felt Shiunsai's hand go into his coat pocket. He had placed a small business card there, complete with an address and phone number.

"What's this for?" Bruce asked.

"It's for your first test when we get to Tokyo. Follow the directions on the card. Some of my people will meet with you there. And good luck."

Bruce eyed the card curiously before placing it into his pocket. Tokyo was several minutes away, he thought, so he treated himself to some well deserved sleep. The nightmare he was having, however, was not as kind. In his dream, he was a child again. He was back at Wayne manor playing hide and seek with his father. He gleefully ran to the old greenhouse at the far end of their estate, thinking his father would never find him there. At the middle of the greenhouse was an old well. It had been blocked by several pieces of wood, so he thought it was safe enough to hide in.

He was wrong.

His weight had forced the old planks to break. Falling fast, Bruce couldn't protect himself in time. As painful as the landing was, it couldn't prepare him for what he was about to see; a giant bat, flying out of a hidden tunnel. The giant bat flew over him, almost like a sign of some sort. A signal. A symbol.


End file.
